


Let's Stop Running From Love

by s4ffy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Characters who TALK, F/M, Life-Affirming Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 07:42:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15658800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s4ffy/pseuds/s4ffy
Summary: Bellamy and Clarke don't wake the others from cryo-sleep immediately, and spend some time trying to resolve all the things that need fixing between them.





	Let's Stop Running From Love

**Author's Note:**

> hello yes this is unbeta'd and written in a matter of hours so mistakes are probable.

Jordan slips out around the same time they stood staring at the sunrise of the second sun over their new planet, their new home, their new chance. Bellamy looks around in concern, but before he can make to follow Jordan, Clarke grasps his hand in hers. 

“Leave him be – he needs a few minutes.” She urges, and she can see Bellamy’s conflicting feelings, his heart telling him he shouldn’t leave someone who was in pain, and his head telling him that Jordan needs time to process. Slowly, he nods and the tension in his shoulders abates slightly even as the redness in his eyes doesn’t disappear. “So, what now?” she asks, slightly breathless from the sheer impossibility of it all.

“We wake Raven,” he says decisively. “She’ll know how to get us down.” Clarke tries to ignore the flare of hope at his words. We, he’d said and maybe he didn’t mean it the way she did in her thoughts but maybe, just maybe, he did. Maybe his we was the same as hers, the two of them together again. Partners and companions despite everything that had come before.

“How do we tell them all?” she wonders aloud, hoping he’ll put the tremor in her voice down to this overwhelming path in front of them instead of her yearning and hoping for them to be okay again.

“We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

“I guess first we need to figure out how to open the pods.” She takes a bracing breath and makes to go back to the cryo room.

“Wait,” he says, and this time he’s the one who grabs her hand. “Just. They’ve been asleep for a hundred and twenty-five years. What’s a few more minutes? Let’s just be -” he trails off but she immediately understands the desire for a few more uninterrupted, peaceful minutes of no responsibility before they faced whatever was down there.

“Be what?” she prompts with a smirk. Lazy, she thinks he’ll snark back, but when she looks at him, his eyes are full of a myriad of emotions that makes her heart clench and arms ache to pull him to her, if only to let him know that whatever he was going through, he wasn’t alone. Bellamy, who had closed his eyes for what felt like only a moment and opened them again to find out two of his closest friends had lived and loved and died while he was asleep.

“Let’s just be Bellamy and Clarke for a bit. No sides; no wars; no decisions; no betrayals. The way it was always meant to be.” She feels hollow at his words, longing for a universe in which they could have been normal, with nothing pulling them apart over and over. It’s almost incomprehensible, how easily she’s able to imagine a happier life with him and how much she mourns the way it could have been, should have been when her relationship with Bellamy has been nothing except full of trials and tribulations.

His eyes are boring into hers, searching and hesitant and her whole body feels wound tight; the air around them electric; the two of them just waiting for the lightning to strike. 

She swallows and looks away, edging away from the precipice she’s become so familiar with since meeting him. There’s still too much between them, too much uncertainty and hurt that they’re both holding back. She feels, rather than sees, his sigh and casts around desperately for something to lighten the mood.

“Funny,” she huffs a laugh, “Longest sleep I’ve ever had and I feel like I could use a nap right about now.” All traces of melancholy hidden, he grins at her; boyish and charming and something aches in her stomach for all the time she lost with him in which to watch him grow and evolve into the spectacular man he is today – time she’ll never be able to get back.

“Come on.” He pulls her by the hand back to the window and settles down on the cold metal floor, her hand still in his resting on his thigh, sending warmth all the way down her arm to her whole body. They sit in contemplative silence for a few minutes. 

“Do you think we’ll be better, this time round?” she asks quietly despite her previous disinclination to talk about anything gloomy, she can’t help but seek reassurance that he still has hope that they won’t make the same mistakes and underneath that; a subtle, unspoken question of whether they both will be able to find their way back to each other across the chasm of misunderstanding and miscommunication and six long years apart that had opened up between them.

“We have to. For – for Monty and Harper and everyone else we’ve lost along the way.” He says earnestly. “We have to. We will.” He pauses to swallow and glances at her from under his lashes and answers her “We have each other.” She nods, and this time even her natural cynicism can’t dampen the flare of hope she has for their relationship to mend and take them back to when they trusted each other implicitly.

The silence between them is companionable and easy, despite everything unsaid and hanging in the air. She’s able to study him for the first time since he returned; the indentation between his brows has smoothed, his shoulders were more relaxed, his movements freer and less tight. The mantle of responsibility still lay heavy his shoulders but the blame he used to carry had been shrugged off. The darkness in his eyes had gone, and though there is deep sorrow, there is also a brightness to his gaze that hadn’t been there six years ago, a galaxy unveiled in his tired eyes.

“I really am sorry, you know.” She murmurs quietly, half hoping he was too preoccupied in his thoughts to hear. His gaze catches hers and the vulnerability in them makes her breath catch in her throat. “There wasn’t enough time to – to think. I had to protect Madi.” His thumb strokes across her skin, giving her the strength to carry on and let her walls down. “I didn’t think Octavia would actually…” he gives a sardonic, bitter laugh.

“Yeah, bit of a hard pill to swallow when the sister you’ve given up your whole life for sentences you to death.” She can hear the undercurrent of anguish in his voice and she can’t stop herself from surging to him and taking him in her arms, bodies pressed together, her nose resting in the hollow of his throat, his head resting on the crown of her head.

“You deserve so much better than her.” She says fiercely, slightly muffled by the warmth of his bare skin. “You deserve…” she trails off, unable to find words to articulate just how incredible she thinks he is. “You deserve the world.” She finishes lamely, aware of how meagre it is, but the way his embrace tightens around her, like no one’s ever told him this before makes the hole in her chest widen. God, she wants to press her hands to his chest and push all the love she has for him into his skin so he will never forget it. “You deserve someone who adores you and knows what an incredible man you are. I hope Echo is that person for you.”

He clears this throat awkwardly and pulls away from her slightly, hands settling on her shoulders. 

“Actually, Echo and I broke up.” She makes a small, shocked noise, searching his eyes for any sign of pain, feeling wretched for the wave of happiness and relief. “It just wasn’t working. Not with… everything else.”

“Oh, Bellamy. I didn’t know.”

“It is what it is.” He shrugs, and pulls her closer again. “Everything changed when we got to the ground.”

She tries not to let this knowledge change anything, but she can’t help but be hyper-aware of every point of contact between their bodies (of which there are many – she’s practically sitting in his lap). That same feeling of electricity hums under her skin and she grows hot when his hands brush the small of her back.

“I still can’t quite believe you’re here.” She says in a whisper, and hesitantly brings her hand to cup his jaw in the same place that – just a few short days ago – she had slapped. His rough stubble abrades at her sensitive palm. She can’t help the thrill that goes through her as, despite herself, she imagines what it would feel like on other, more sensitive parts of her. 

“Madi told me you used to talk to me on the radio.” His voice is gentle but even so, her face burns at Madi laying her soul bare for him to see. “God, Clarke. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have stopped til we fixed that radio. I’m so sorry-”

“No, I’m the one who should be sorry…” He places a finger to her lips, quieting her and she looked at him in surprise.

“Don’t apologise again. We’ve both done things that we would take back if we could. We can’t change the past, we just have to make a better future.” She swallows as the magnitude of his words hit her. He was granting her – not forgiveness, exactly – but a chance to prove herself to him and earn the trust that he had already given back to her.

In the light of the two suns, Bellamy’s eyes are sparkling, the golden light revealing flecks of amber. His eyes dart to her lips and self-consciously, she licks them, watching as his pupils blow wide.

She wants to lean forward, let their lips meet. She’s tired of fighting this magnetic pull between them but she doesn’t want to ruin the fragile, tentative balance they’ve found. If it was a choice between having Bellamy in her life as friends, or not having him at all, she’d choose his friendship every time.

“Clarke,” he breathes, and his voice is shot. Clarke has to dig her nails into her palm to ground herself, remind herself of all the reasons that this shouldn’t happen. But, Echo was out of the picture now and even though they’d both hurt each other more than they’ve ever done before, after laying it all out in the open, she knows it was never a question of whether they would find their way back to each other, only whether they would take the long way round or the short way. There was nothing in this world – in this universe – that would keep the two of them apart, not when they had both proved time and time again that they would fight their way back to each other through battles and betrayals and heartbreak. Bellamy was right, all they needed was a bit of time to just be Bellamy and Clarke.

But it was her who would have to take the first step, the first risky jump into the unknown. For all the times that she’d taken the first step away from him, all the times she’d turned her back and left him, it was her turn to take that first step towards him.

She presses her lips to his so gently it’s barely more than a brush of skin. She pulls back and stares at him searchingly. His hand comes up to cup her head and he pulls her back in for a deeper kiss, lips opening under hers, tongues sliding against each other desperately.

“It’s not too soon after Echo?” she asks against his mouth as she breaks away for air. She can taste his chuckle as he presses soft kisses against the corner of her lips.

“It’s been a hundred and twenty-five years, Clarke.” He murmurs. “And six years before that, and God knows how long before that.” 

“Really?” 

“Of course, Clarke. How could you not know?” and she did, she does. Six years ago, she knew without a doubt that he felt the same as she did. Six years ago, she saw the same love and admiration in his eyes that she felt in her chest every time she looked at him. Six years ago, she thought they would have had half a decade for them to reach their inevitable conclusion and their new beginning. But six years happened and so much had gone wrong after their reunion. She can’t help the burn in the back of her throat at the incomprehensibility that he’s loved her through it all, just as long, just as deeply as she does him. She burrows her head into the warm skin of his neck before he can see her eyes growing red.

He can sense her tears and nuzzles into her hair. 

“What’s wrong?” he urges.

“I just… I love you.” She confesses, like it was ever a secret. His fingers clench on her waist and he brings one to tilt her face up so he can kiss her again, deep and searing. 

“In case it wasn’t obvious, I love you too.”

Clarke draws his lower lip into her mouth, sucking with enough force that it makes him shiver and groan. His hands work their way under her shirt, deft, calloused fingers exploring the divots of her spine. 

“I want this off.” He murmurs distractedly as his lips map out the expanse of her neck. He growls when her fingers twist tighter in his curls and she barely pulls back enough to let him wrestle her top off her.

Her heart beats unsteadily in her chest as he gazes at her, full of adoration and openness. She wants to say something, wants to tell him everything she’s kept locked up for so long, but no words will do justice to the enormity of her emotions, so she just pulls him to her again and locks his lips in hers, nibbling and licking, trying to pour the depths of her love into his mouth so he will taste it.

He hauls her onto his lap so she’s straddling him, wrapping his arms around her like a vice so tight she almost can’t breathe. She feels close to tears again, not quite able to process that he’s here, he’s in her arms and she can touch him like this.

“I love you.” She repeats, stroking the dimple of his chin affectionately and her eyes are so soft and so blue and heartache and happiness bloom in his chest. He can’t find his voice to return the sentiment so he presses a light, lingering kiss to the swell of her breast, right above her heart. He mouths his way to her nipple and takes the bud of it into his hot mouth over the threadbare bra. He sucks lightly and she arches into him, unable to quell the moan that slips out. 

Suddenly, she needs to feel Bellamy’s skin on hers, needs to feel the reality of his presence, let his skin burn itself into hers and she tugs at his shirt until he lifts his arms obediently for her to toss it away. 

Softly, like he’ll disappear if she touches him too hard, she traces the lines of his muscles, swallowing his huff as she traces over his nipples and mesmerized at the way his abs twitch under the gentle scratch of her fingernails. When she reaches the soft trail of dark hair under his belly button, he takes her hand and presses it to his lips, not quite kissing, just holding it there so she can feel his breaths, coming unsteady and shaky. His chest feels hollow and full all at once and he wonders how he can feel such contentment and sorrow at the same time.

“I missed you, so much. Every day.” And really, there is nothing she can say to that. She missed him too, so much she ached with it but he knows, and she knows and now all there’s left to do is to speak out loud everything that was raw and bleeding inside them so they could heal. 

He runs his hands gently down her arms and up her torso, over the swell of her breasts, mesmerized by the soft skin of her and she sighs dreamily against his mouth. He can’t help but rock up into her, seeking friction and her sigh turns into a gasp as she feels his hardening cock against her centre. 

“Bellamy,” she whimpers into the skin of his temple and he silences her with a scorching kiss. His hands snake around her back to work at the clasp her bra and he pauses to pull it away from her body, air leaving his lungs in a soft whoosh as her breasts are bared to him, nipples flushes and beaded. When he meets her eyes, his gaze is tender and soft and something in her heart feels bruised with longing. 

“You’re gorgeous.” He mutters as his teeth nibble the sensitive skin, hard enough to leave a mark “I can’t believe I get to…” he trails off, closing his mouth over her nipple and caressing the other between his finger and thumb, watching her expression to see what she likes.  
Heat builds between her legs, the slow working of his hands and mouth not nearly enough sensation for her. She bucks her hips against him, feeling him hard and hot underneath her. 

“Bellamy, I need – I need –“ she rocks faster desperately searching for the right angle to soothe the ache between her legs, but Bellamy places firm hands on her hips to slow her movement. 

“Shhh, s’okay. I’m gonna take care of you.” He breathes.

She bites at his chin, hoping the dirty flick of her tongue over the cleft and the hard sucking will encourage him to speed up, to lose control a little but when her hand snakes down to dip below the waistband of his trousers and jerk him off, quick and hard, he grasps her face in his and peppers kisses lightly over her jaw.

“Wait, let’s just…” Bellamy trails off against her temple, unable to express what he wants, but she slows down and searches his eyes and seems to understand anyway. He wants to savour this moment, wants to etch it into his memory, wants to catalogue her every gasp and moan and shiver, wants to memorise exactly where he should touch her to make her twitch against him. He wants to hold her in his arms and never let go, he wants to climb inside her and make a home for himself in her chest, like she has in him. He wants to touch and touch and be touched and pour every ounce of himself out for her to see. He wants so much he burns with it.

When he looks up and meets her eyes again, he has to bury his nose into her heaving chest, breathing in her scent, unable to face the raw honesty and love. He busies himself with tracing a path across her collarbone with his tongue instead, sparks racing down his spine as she rubs his scalp with her fingertips.

They kiss again, a slow, sweet slide of tongues, biting and sucking. He lets himself get lost in her again, the slow roll of their hips keeping pace with their kisses, the friction maddeningly sweet; too much and yet not enough at all.

Soon, Clarke can’t stand it, the pressure between her legs too much to bear. She kneels enough that he can pull her leggings down. He ducks down to nose at her bellybutton as he does so, then dips his tongue inside so that she gasps with it. She has to do a weird, awkward contortion to remove her leggings completely whilst not breaking contact with Bellamy, but when his fingers brush over her wet cunt, she grasps his shoulders and dips her forehead down to rest on his. His fingers circle her clit, and she keens, low and lingering, keyed up so much that even just his gentle touch makes sparks fly behind her eyelids.

“I want your dick inside me.” She gasps as his fingers just barely dip into her entrance. She urges him to lift his hips so she can slide his pants down and when his cock springs free, she takes a moment to trace the vein with her fingertips reverently. His harsh gasp punctures the air, hand flying to her hip leaving a smear of her own wetness on her skin and she lets herself smile, meeting his eyes. 

He pulls her to him again, resting his head in her neck, feeling her pulse against his temple. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here, I’m alive, it beats against his skin, and God, he thought she was dead for so long, but she’s not; she’s here in his arms, alive and warm and soft and pliant under his hands. If his eyes grow glassy with tears, she doesn’t mention it, just presses a soft kiss to the tip of his nose as she positions herself over him, hovering, the head of his dick just barely brushing her centre.

“Clarke,” he exhales, that one word loaded with so many things she can’t begin to comprehend.

“Bellamy,” she responds softly, and sinks down on him, taking him completely.

She’s slick and tight and mind-numbingly warm. His mind blanks out for a second. Her arms wrap around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair and he just wants to hold her and never never never let go.

“God, you feel so good,” she pants and jerks her hips so that he drags inside her. 

They find a rhythm, her barely lifting off him enough for him to thrust back, instead just soft rocking of hips so he’s nudging a spot inside her that makes her vision spotty. She clenches around him and he moans with it, biting his lip to try and regain some semblance of sanity as she murmurs his name like a prayer.

Clarke begins to lose track of time, lost in the grind of his pubic bone against her clit and how the head of his cock is angled in just the right way to drag against her in just the right place. Her vision begins to grow hazy, her awareness narrowing down to just them, just this; Bellamy’s heavy breaths against her neck, his arms banded around her waist, holding her impossible close, the slick of sweat and her own wetness between them. 

Her orgasm creeps up slowly, a fire in her belly that grows and grows until it encompasses her whole body, warm and slow like syrup. She’s clenching around him, breath stuttering in her chest and it’s drawn-out so much that she doesn’t know when it begins or ends, only that it grows hotter and more intense when she feels him twitch inside her, spilling out into her while his hands press so hard into her hips she knows they’ll leave marks.

They stay joined for a while, nuzzling into each other, basking in the afterglow. When she lifts off him, Bellamy hands her his t-shirt to clean off and then raises his chin expectantly with half lidded eyes for a soft, lazy, satisfied kiss, and they dress languidly, grinning at each other stupidly as they hand each other pieces of clothing.

“We’re okay, right?” she prods once they’re standing next to each other fully dressed once again. He tugs on a loose, sex-mussed strand of hair and nods.

“We’re okay.” He promises. “We’ll all be okay.”


End file.
